


Pretty Boy

by Mikey_A



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 05:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikey_A/pseuds/Mikey_A
Summary: Mycroft smells trouble from the first time he sets eyes on Jim Moriarty. He's certain that it's best to stay as far away as possible. Unfortunately, Jim has other plans.





	Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is my first fic ever. This is just the first chapter, so bear with me. I would appreciate feedback immensely! Thank you so much for reading!

The first time Mycroft Holmes meets Jim Moriarty, he really is a minor government official. It's really just a passing glance - I mean, how long can a look truly linger when one party is handcuffed and being rushed toward an interrogation room - but something in the way the other man's intelligent eyes run over him, tongue darting out to wet smirking lips, unsettles Mycroft. Maybe it's the sheer volatility behind his gaze, or perhaps it's the fact that he's completely unable to gather anything from this man at first glance, for once. Either way, it's enough to break his generally unimpressed demeanor, even for a fracture of a second, and that alone captures his interest.

"Sir? Are you quite alright?"

Mycroft doesn't bother to answer his newest assistant, instead asking a question of his own. "Anthea, who was that man?"

"His name is Jim Moriarty, sir. He's suspected to have stolen valuable artifacts from a nearby museum. Do you want to meet with him?"

Mycroft almost thinks he hears a teasing jab laced in her tone, but her face gives away nothing. "No, no. He just reminded me of someone."

The rest of the day continues as normal, and if the occasional twisted smirk enters his mind, nobody has to know.

\--

About a week later, the man with the grin is, impossibly, released. Mycroft knows this because he's just sauntered into his office, devilish expression draped across his features. He sits in the chair across from Mycroft, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. The shorter man doesn't say anything for a while, so neither does Mycroft, who doesn't dare look up from his work. The man speaks first.

"Mycroft Holmes? What a name."

He rearranges the nameplate slightly. Mycroft automatically straightens it, but he doesn't respond. The man's obscene smile only grows as he tries again.

"I'm Jim Moriarty."

Jim's patience is rewarded with a frustrated sigh.

"Mr. Moriarty, is there something I can help you with? Did you happen to schedule an appointment with my assistant? If no, I-"

"Oh, no, Holmes. I fancied a chat. It gets lonely in those rooms, you know. It's really very boring."

Mycroft almost laughs at the familiarity of the phrase. "While that's quite fascinating-"

"What's a clever boy like you doing in a place like this, hm?"

The government official ventures to meet his eyes with an icy and apathetic gaze. It infuriates Jim. "I'm doing my job, Mr. Moriarty."

Jim pulls a stick of gum out of his pocket and decides then and there that he's going to bring Mycroft Holmes to his knees, one way or another. He takes his time standing up, giving the taller man one last good look. "I know your game, Holmes. You and I want the same thing. Let's just see who gets there first, shall we?"

With that, Jim leaves the room the same way he entered it: abruptly and with a smug bounce to his gait. Mycroft leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, unsure what to make of the exchange. Eventually, he returns to his work. He'll have to deal with Jim Moriarty later, when he becomes more relevant. Meanwhile, he pushes away thoughts of gleaming pits for eyes and Irish lilted voices.


End file.
